


Emerald Victory

by TricksterGoddess



Category: Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AOU, Avengers Tower, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Civil War (Marvel), Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Love, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, Marvel Universe, Possible smut, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Civil War (Marvel), Romance, Smut, circa age of ultron, mental health, mental wellbeing, romantic, superhero, superhero psychology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26499700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksterGoddess/pseuds/TricksterGoddess
Summary: Doctor Victory "Vex" Evans was recruited by Fury shortly after publishing her first paper on superhero psychology. She was considered an asset S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't afford to let pass by. Quickly, she became one of his most trusted. When Fury gives her a new assignment, that trust is truly put to the test.Assess whether the Avengers are a risk.Vex is being given a once in a lifetime opportunity to carry out a study on superheroes and how their heroic acts and tasks affect their mental well-being. When Doctor Bruce Banner finds a way to weasel out of her study data, Vex finds that her time with him is more relaxed than the others despite how they dislike each other. Will she be able to maintain her distance? Or will she be drawn to the Doctor in the same inexplicable way he feels drawn to her?---{ Mix between Earth 616, MCU, and Marvel Avengers (2020) game }
Relationships: Bruce Banner/OFC, Bruce Banner/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. First Day

**Vex**

* * *

The Avengers Tower stands a beacon over the New York skyline, like some lone sentinel stretching over Manhattan. Its daunting silhouette is what I’ve been glancing at for the past ten minutes as it draws ever closer. I’m only a block away from it now. My nerves have been gearing up this whole time, ratcheting higher and higher with every step. It wasn’t every day that you started a new job working with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, was it? It was perfectly reasonable to be nervous.

I’m trying my best to pay attention to the sidewalk – I really am – but that looming giant of a tower is so distracting that I must misstep. The papers I’d been carrying take flight, fluttering around me briefly before being taken by the breeze. I hear someone growl at me to _watch where I’m going_ and I snap to look at the man I’d bumped into. He’s already walking away, not bothering to help me collect the mess he’d helped make. My eyes narrow on his retreating form, the dark purple shirt and mop of messy brown hair, as I heckle at him:

“I hope your barista spits in your goddamn latte, asshole,” I call, snatching at the pieces of my resume as they drift back down to earth. I think he turns back to glance at me, but if he says anything in return it’s too late, I’m already speeding down the pavement towards the tower again. It’s distracted me somewhat from my gawking at the building as I approach, at least. Instead, I’m too busy trying to rearrange my resume into some semblance of sense to be intimidated by the building. I pray silently that I’ve managed to gather all of the paper. Knowing my luck, all my references will be on a missing page. I would have simply stuffed it into the duffel bag slung over my shoulders, but I’ve got every essential I could think of inside it and I don’t think any papers would survive being shoved in there. So here I am, left with fluttering, unruly pages.

By the time I arrive in reception, I’ve only got ten minutes to spare, and the beautiful A-line dress that I’d carefully picked out this morning is undoubtedly rumpled. At least, I silently praise, that man hadn’t spilled coffee down the lovely jade-green fabric. Small mercies. But now I’m worried about the cut of my dress. Is it too low? I don’t want to be flashing too much cleavage on my first day of all things, do I? I tug my dress awkwardly.

I’m being ridiculous.

I know I am, because I quadruple checked everything from my shoes to my dress to the bra that nobody can see before I left my flat this morning. Still, I suppose it pays to be thorough. Once I’m satisfied with my appearance I smooth down the front of my dress once more and approach the front desk. “Good morning. I believe I’m expected by Mr. Stark – the name is Victory Evans.”

The butt of jokes and the bane of my existence, my name _always_ raises some brows, so I’m not surprised when the receptionist blinks up at me in surprise. He takes a beat to recover, but I’m certain I’m not the strangest person he’s seen or heard recently, especially considering the small horde of cosplayers gathered outside, desperate for a glimpse at the famous superheroes who live here. I put it down to the Monday morning grind. With a placid smile, he motions to the closest elevator and tells me in a perfectly monotone voice; “Floor seventy-two. I’ll inform Mr. Stark that you’ve arrived, Ma’am.”

And just like that, he turns back to his computer as though I’d never even existed, and I’m left to my own devices. Seventy-two. Seventy-two whole floors between me and real, solid ground. I swallow down a rattling breath and push my shoulders back, refusing to allow myself the indignity of acrophobia in the knowledge I’m soon to be in a room with the world’s strongest and bravest. Besides which, many of the Avengers could fly. Surely, if there was any place to teeter on the edge of the world, it would be in a room with half a dozen superheroes. The elevator dings as I’m steeling myself for the lurch of movement, clutching the strap of my bag so tightly I can see the whites of my knuckles.

I’m not sure how long it _actually_ takes for me to arrive at the seventy-second floor of the Avengers Tower, but it certainly feels as though I’m kept waiting forever. I suck in a breath. Deep breaths, stay calm. I try to turn my thoughts towards how I should go about my job while at the Tower. Fury had given me the assignment to act as assistant to those stationed here in the Avengers Tower, but the objective he’d given me was far more important than that. A golden goose of case studies in superhero psychology. A world first, really. He wants me to report back to him with my findings every week; the mental health of his prized stock is one of his top priorities. After all, they couldn’t save the world if they were too busy trying to get a handle on the trauma he kept putting them all through.

I know that Fury had _technically_ informed them, though some lengthy, boring email chain that contained a document requiring their consent, but I have no doubts at all that Fury had used some clever jargon to ensure that nobody ever _really_ read it. So it leaves me in the uncomfortable position of monitoring them when I had no idea whether they were even aware. They’d all consented, of course, or else I wouldn’t be here, but… it still made me uneasy.

When the elevator stops, I’m chewing on the plush of my lip nervously. The doors slide open to reveal a tall, slender woman with a tight and forced smile. Her strawberry-blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, not a single hair awry. I can only assume that I’ve been met with the famous Pepper Potts.

“Ms. Potts?” I ask, stepping out of the elevator and approaching her with a smile. “Good morning, I’m Victory. I believe you’ve been expecting me? It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Pepper says kindly, though her face doesn’t reflect that, “Doctor Victory Evans, I presume? An… interesting name, to say the least.”

My expression cools, the smile more forced as I speak to her; “One might say the same for _Pepper_ … please, call me Vex.”

She simply raised a finely plucked eyebrow and remains silent.

I clear my throat nervously, well aware of her scrutiny of me. “I understand, Ms. Potts, that you may be uncomfortable with my presence here, especially at first. Accepting someone new into such a highly sensitive position without knowing much about them is incredibly difficult – especially when we consider HYDRA’s infiltration into S.H.I.E.L.D – and considering my role here I’d honestly be disappointed if you _did_ immediately take any kind of liking to me. Please know though, that the wellbeing of Mr. Stark and everyone else here is my number one priority, no matter what.”

“Please understand that it’s nothing personal. You’re already well on your way to earning my trust. I appreciate honesty, Doctor Evans.”

She pauses as I wince at the name, “Please, just call me Vex. I hate those titles, and I’m not strictly here as a doctor. I just want to ensure that everyone is as healthy as they can be. I won’t be reporting anything to Fury – or anyone else – unless I feel that further action is necessary.”

“Alright, Vex,” she concedes, shoulders relaxing a fraction as the tension of our meeting – that awkward standoffish hello between professionals with wholly different directives – dissipates somewhat. I doubt that she’ll ever be wholly relaxed around me, but I hope that it marks the beginning of a positive relationship, at least, “but you must call me Pepper. None of this Ms. Potts business.”

We start to discuss my daily tasks and how I’ll be situated on the same floor, acting as one of their permanent _on-call_ assistants and observers. She explains that while she’s aware of what Fury’s intentions are here, many of the Avengers likely won’t be. Tony doesn’t read his emails. Thor thinks emails are pointless. Banner forgets to read his emails. Nat only read the emails marked _urgent_. Barton gets the run-down from Nat. Steve pretends he doesn’t understand the internet so he doesn’t have to read his emails. I try not to smile at the last one and file the information away for a later time.

As we’re talking, the elevator behind me opens and I hear someone new clear his throat. Pepper grins, a broader, more genuine smile than anything she’s given me so far – it truly lights up her face, changing her from the stern businesswoman to a stunning beacon – and gestures to the man behind me; “Vex, I’d like you to meet Doctor Bruce Banner. Bruce, this is the new assistant Fury informed us about.”

I feel my heart turn to lead when I see him. It’s him. It’s the asshole I’d bumped into earlier. The same plum purple shirt and dishevelled brown hair. Now that I can see his face, I realise that he’s fairly attractive – in a dorky science-nerd kind of way. A few days’ stubble lines his jaw, and that mop of dark hair gives him a charming twist on the ‘mad scientist’ look. He’s watching me through a pair of glasses that have slipped halfway down his nose. I see his lips thin to a line. “Just so you know; I don’t drink lattes.”

I blink. “What?”

“You told me that you hope my barista spits in my latte,” he explains, a sardonic smile gracing his features. I think I hear a noise from Pepper behind me, “I’m just letting you know that I don’t drink coffee. I prefer tea.”

I’m torn somewhere between a bolt of irritation and the urgent wish for the ground to swallow me whole. Doctor Bruce Banner, one of the single greatest living minds on Earth and a man I had been elated to learn I’d be working with, was giving me the kind of look one would expect a teacher to give an unruly child. I suck my teeth in frustration. I won’t. I won’t give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait.

“Of course, I’ll remember that for next time, Doctor Banner.” I’m doing my best to be polite. I really, really am, so when he lifts a brow – clearly unimpressed – and gives me a quick look up and down, I’m left trying not to snap at him. Banner, it seems, is not a morning person.

He looks over my shoulder at Pepper, acting as though I’m not even here. “Is this that _Doctor Evans_ Fury mentioned in his weekly bulletin?””

“Frankly, I’m shocked you read this one. I’d been under the impression that given your… _enthusiasm_ for your lab work, those emails escaped your notice,” Pepper says, “but yes, it is. Vex will be the assistant-slash-observing psychologist for the foreseeable future.”

And just like that, those hazel eyes slide back to me. I think, given his new attention, I preferred it when he pretended I wasn’t in the room. It made me less likely to squirm. I know he’s doing it deliberately, trying to make me uncomfortable in some hypermasculine attempt at establishing dominance over the only other person with a title to match his, but I was already nervous and it was my _first day_. Give me a _break_. I can’t be made of marble all of the time.

I suck in a breath and steady myself. “I’d be appreciative if you didn’t use my title while I’m here, Doctor Banner. I am aware that each of you have already consented to my presence and monitoring, however I feel that it would render my data collection here useless if my presence here is drawn attention to beyond my role as assistant. My main goal here is the safety and wellbeing of superheroes – after all, people are people regardless of power – and if I’m able to gather reliable information on the strain this lifestyle puts people under, I’ll be better prepared to assist with any mental health issues that arise.”

He stays quiet. Those eyes, a dark colour that should be warm and sweet like a rich chocolate, are watching me with cool calculation. I’m pleased he hasn’t shown any signs of _hulking_ out and turning into his ten-foot-tall alter-ego. Given the media portrayal of the man before me as a volatile beast, I wonder to myself how much of the information I’d been given on Banner was genuine and how much was anti-hero propaganda. A beat passes. He clears his throat and rolls his shoulders, seemingly pleased that I won’t be posing him any trouble right now. “Given that I’m reasonably confident Pepper and I are the only two to have read the bulletin, I believe most of your data will be fine. I believe I would not be an acceptable point for the study.”

“Much of the data I would collect on you would be unreliable at best and performative at least,” I agree, and pause to ponder for a moment, smiling when I think of the solution despite my nerves, “I believe that you’ll need to be excluded from this particular case study. Instead, I can use the time allotted to you to compile my findings and ensure the others each receive the best care they can. I won’t be neglecting you, of course, and I’d be happy to assist you however you need. I could use you as the baseline for my study, however I feel it may still corrupt my findings. I’m sure you understand the importance of receiving unbiased results?”

Banner nods.

“I would like to interact with you while you’re in your altered state, however, if that’s acceptable? I feel it could provide some unique-”

“No.”

I blink at the finality of it. Okay, touchy subject. I file the information away in my head as Pepper clears her throat, forces a smile, and indicates for me to follow her. Banner watches me like a hawk watches a field mouse it’s picked out for its next meal, but I try to block out the sensation of knowing I’m being glared at as I re-enter the elevator with Pepper. I exhale in relief as the doors slide shut and we lurch into motion.

“That was certainly not what I expected from your first meeting with Doctor Banner. I had thought the two of you would get along quite well,” Pepper’s lips have twisted up into an amused smile that plays across her features, “might I ask what the _latte_ comment was about?”

I chew my lip and shrug. “We might have bumped into each other. He was an arse, so I told him I hoped the barista spits in his coffee.”

At that, the smile gives way to a burst of laughter as the elevator _dings_ to a stop. We step out into a long corridor. The hallways are cool grey with obnoxious red and gold accents, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this was something Stark had designed himself in the renovation of the Avengers Tower. Anywhere else, I would have considered it utterly ridiculous, but each colour has been so perfectly picked that they look nothing short of stunning together.

Each of the doors we walk past have names on them. Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff. Clint Barton. The list goes on until we reach the final two, Bruce Banner to the left, and Victory Evans to the right. Of _course_ I’d be directly opposite him. Pepper, if she notices me roll my eyes at the realisation, kindly ignores me and starts talking… to the door.

“JARVIS, the new assistant has arrived. Please could you add the following recognition to your database and ensure she has full access to the facilities she should have clearance for under her S.H.I.E.L.D. identification. Please also ensure that she has access to any of the floors the Avengers are using at any one time.”

“ _Yes Ms. Potts. I_ _will do so right away,”_ the voice is clipped and speaks in a lovely BBC English accent, _“Doctor Evans, if you could please place your left hand onto the print recognition pad to the right of your door, I will find your S.H.I.E.L.D information and add it to my library.”_

I follow JARVIS’ instructions carefully, repeating the process with my right hand, and then allowing him to update his information to reflect my clearance level. Pepper tells me that all of my needs will be taken care of while I’m assigned here, from a fridge stocked weekly with anything I request to my electricity bills. The only things I must pay for myself are decorations. Had I not already known about the hazards of the job I’m about to take, I’d have considered this an incredible deal. Hell, I still think it’s incredible.

My guide tucks a loose lock of ginger hair behind her ear and gives me a winning smile, “I’ll leave you to settle in here for a few hours. You’re expected upstairs at 11am sharp for the morning briefing.”


	2. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {So my computer decided to screw me over and delete my chapter two while I was editing it, so unfortunately today's chapter is a brief filler while I desperately try to rewrite what I can remember. Apologies for the inconvenience}

Bruce

* * *

Her question shouldn’t have been a shock to him. He knew, really, that she would want to talk to the Other Guy. Any psychologist worth their word would want to. Still, he hadn’t expected her to be so direct, had he? Is that the issue? Is that why it feels like the Hulk’s fist is squeezing his little human heart so tightly it hurts to breathe?

He knew he had a long, long list of issues that – under normal circumstances – would likely require professional help, but Bruce had learned the hard way that medication didn’t help and therapy led to unwanted feelings being dragged to the surface. He didn’t want to put a therapist in danger by risking having Hulk make an appearance while he was filtering through painful memories. Bruce waits until the elevator door slides shut before releasing a rattling breath. She had told him she wouldn’t be using him in her study, but her presence still made him feel off-kilter, like he was crossing on a tightrope and she’d just ripped away his safety net.

It takes him a moment to recollect himself. There were obviously going to be issues working so closely with someone who could – evidently quite easily – get inside his head, but he knew that if he complained to Fury it would be a clear message that she _was_ needed. All he could do was shut up and keep his distance. Bruce sighs and rakes a hand through his unruly hair.

Pepper isn’t gone for long, but when she returns she’s right down to business; “Well?”

“Well, what?” He asks, though he knows _exactly_ what, and busies himself by cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt. “You want to know what I think of her? Don’t you think it’s a little soon for that?”

“I like her,” Pepper decides.

“Why, because she’s a smart-ass?”

A wry smile plays on Pepper’s lips, and Bruce gets the feeling that she’s seeing more than she’s saying. It was the kind of look that Tony would get when he was up to something, or _hiding_ something. He doesn’t like it. Whether Pepper got it from Tony or Tony from Pepper, all that Banner knew was that the two were far too similar for such polar-opposites. She busies herself in the little kitchenette, making herself a coffee. “You don’t like her because she’s already pinned you, Doctor.”

Bruce frowns. “What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t need to include you in her case study because she can read you like an open book,” Pepper almost _sings_.

She’s taking pleasure, he can see, that she thinks someone is under his skin. He clears his throat. “Pepper, need I remind you that it’s not a wise idea-”

“It’s not a _wise idea_ to isolate yourself completely from the outside world either, Banner. I think that this could be good. Having another analytical mind around who can see you.” Pepper jabs a teaspoon in his direction before going back to adding sugar to her coffee. “I mean _see_ you, might be good. You’re still human, Bruce.”

“I’m… not so sure about that anymore,” he confesses quietly.


	3. Eleven Sharp

When I arrive for the 11am briefing, there are already others present. Doctor Banner stands by the window, ignoring everyone in the room, his hand cups his chin as though pondering the secrets of the universe. Agent Romanoff, however, straightens in her seat when I enter the room, a pleased expression lighting her features.

“Vex?” She asks, the corner of her mouth ticking up into that pleased almost-smile of hers, “You’re the new assistant?”

Though I want to grin at her, I half-turn as though to leave again, and I point to the lift; “I can always go and tell Fury you’re not happy with the arrangement if you want? I’m sure he can arrange another placement for me.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Nat warns, though her voice is warm and holds no malice. She kicks the chair out from beside her, a silent command for me to take a seat by her side. When I do slip into the seat, we immediately shift to accommodate for each other’s presence, shifting until we’re angled forty-five degrees away from each other, our backs together as we rest against each other’s shoulders. I feel myself exhale in a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding, relieved with the knowledge that Nat has my back.

We don’t really look at each other – there’s no need to – now that we’re sat. It’s a silent agreement I acknowledged a long time ago with Nat; regardless of how we feel, we should never look _too_ comfortable or at peace. I can feel how her shoulders have loosened infinitesimally though, allowing me to cover that tiny window of vulnerability she’s opened. Trust isn’t something that comes easily to Natasha. She’s seen too much, done too much, and known far too many people to believe in the fairy-tale of trusting someone wholeheartedly. This is as close to trust as Nat is capable of… and it’s enough. If she trusts me with this tiny sliver of perceived weakness, it’s enough for me to know that I’m one of a handful of people she gives that tiny inch of faith to. She’s the only one I know without a doubt that Fury doesn’t expect anything on. He knows her.

The thought pulls me from the companionable silence. I wonder how he’ll feel about me excluding Banner from my study, too. My gaze flicks to his silhouette against the window. He’s watching us with a frown.

“How’ve you been, Nat?” I ask, tipping my head back slightly so it touches Nat’s.

She doesn’t move away from me, but I feel her subtle shrug. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah… I do. You know you’re not in it alone though. Not anymore,” I tell her quietly, hoping that Banner doesn’t hear my comment. Nat doesn’t say anything, but I feel her hand come to rest on my thigh, giving me a gentle squeeze in thanks. I know it’s hard. So many people see the Black Widow and they see some kind of monster, not the woman wading through decades of unimaginable trauma. She deserved better. She still deserves better. I place my hand over hers. Sometimes, all we need is the knowledge that we aren’t alone in our fight. If she comes to me to talk, I’ll be there, but if she’s not ready to speak about it I won’t push the issue. I can’t force her to drag those nightmares out into the open. I can’t make her stand toe to toe with the monster that haunts her. I can make sure I’m there when she needs me, but it’s not for me to decide when she’s ready.

“How long will you be stationed with us?” She asks, though I’m almost certain she already knows the answer. She’s an intelligence operative.

Still, it’s nice to talk to her, so I indulge. “A few months, at least. I’m not sure if Fury really knows where he wants to place me anymore, given how S.H.I.E.L.D. is… you know.”

Nat nods. “I know.”

Our conversation is only interrupted by the _ding_ of the elevator doors. I notice the way Nat starts to shift away from me before anyone else comes into sight – I understand why she does it, but there’s still that familiar twist in my chest knowing she doesn’t want people to know that we’re close. I clear my throat and get to my feet, deciding to explore the kitchenette so I don’t look like I’ve just been rejected by a good friend.

For the second time today, a cool, eerily _human_ voice speaks to those of us present; “ _Welcome, everyone. I’m pleased to see that you’ve all been able to attend this meeting this-_ ”

“JARVIS we’re only here because you wouldn’t _let_ us miss it. I don’t know if it was Pepper or Fury who overrode my command code for meetings, but I want you to remove the access of whichever one it was,” Tony Stark huffs, removing his sunglasses and snapping them shut. It’s only when his gaze comes to rest on me that he pauses properly to appraise my appearance from head to foot. “I see that we have a new toy. JARVIS has obviously brought us all here to let us know that we have a new puppy and we have to share her nicely or we won’t be allowed to keep her.”

I rest my hands on the kitchen counter separating me from him. “I don’t appreciate the analogy, Mr. Stark.”

“ _Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts has requested that I ensure everyone is present for today’s briefing in order to introduce you all to your newest assistant around the Tower, Do-_ ”

“Vex. My name is Vex,” I finish, interrupting JARVIS before he has a chance to refer to me as Doctor. With any luck, I’ll be able to ask Pepper to remove the title from his memory if I can’t do so myself. It wasn’t that I wanted to _hide_ that I had a doctorate, it was simply a matter of making sure everyone was comfortable around me. If someone asked, I’d be honest.

Stark raises a brow, giving me a long look up and down. There’s a beat in which I wonder if he’ll ask JARVIS to tell him everything that’s on file about me or go digging into my past with S.H.I.E.L.D, but he turns to Natasha instead; “You can vouch for her? S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised. How do we know she wasn’t one of them?”

I try not to be offended by the insinuation I could be HYDRA – it was a valid question, after all – but I can’t help the way my nose wrinkles in distaste at the thought of working for them. HYDRA was – is – an organisation whose influences reach the very edges of the world. I’d thought, like everyone else, that they’d been destroyed alongside the Nazis at the end of World War Two. They hadn’t. Now S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone, and I’m working for people that don’t even exist anymore.

Nat is watching the room from her seat, her face a picture of indifference, but I don’t miss the way her gaze sharpens when Stark turns his attention to her. He trusts her judgement. She purses her lips, considering, before a smirk graces her features. “Vee’s one of the good ones, even if she can be a smartass.”

I open my mouth to protest the assessment, but it seems to be enough for Tony. He catches my eye and nods once. Steve visibly relaxes with Nat’s words, and – shockingly – so does Banner. I try to note how they all respond to her comment about me. Their trust in her seems to run deep. Ironic, considering her training, but it makes my heart warm knowing she’s found this.

“ _Yes_ ,” JARVIS continues, sounding a little peeved at the interruption to his introduction. Incredible. An AI with such a distinct personality. I can almost imagine him sighing, “ _you will find her room on the same floor as yours. She will be staying beside Doctor Banner and Mr. Barnes._ ”

Bucky has been quiet, but at the mention of his name I see his eyes narrow on me. There’s something inexplicably cold about his expression, but not entirely unkind. It’s a broken kind of iciness. The kind of face that told me that he saw the horrors of his past every time he blinked, in that millisecond of darkness. I wonder who he saw. Or if he saw all of their faces. It was the expression of a man who’d never find the ability to forgive himself. I don’t think Stark will ever find the will to forgive him either; his whole body seems to stiffen at the mere mention of Bucky’s name. I’ve read the file. I know why.

“Any of you can call on me for whatever you need,” I explain, “I’ll be on call for you twenty-four-seven for anything you require. My number is already in your phones, courtesy of JARVIS – thank you, JARVIS – and I’ll have my phone on me at all times. Over the next few weeks I’ll be spending a few days with each of you on an individual basis to get accustomed to the way you each work here and how I can best be of assistance to you all. I have no qualms about getting up at three-am to bring you pistachio ice-cream. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty in mechanics. I’m happy to be your spotting partner while you work out. Anything you need.”

“ _Anything_?” Stark asks, that tell-tale sly tone of his voice explaining exactly where his mind has gone. Straight to the gutter.

With a pleasant smile, I give Stark the finger. “If I find any of the requests inappropriate, I’ll personally kick your arse from here to London and back. Are we clear? I won’t tolerate some fuckboy in a tin can trying to undress me.”

“Oh God how I’ve missed you, Vex,” Agent Hill confesses with a smile.


	4. Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Please note that as of posting this chapter I am working on an overhaul of chapters 1-4. The changes will be minor, however I will be altering all previous chapters to be in 3rd person past tense. This is a rough draft of ch.4 however I didn't want to keep you waiting forever for this chapter. Thanks for reading <3 constructive criticism is encouraged! Lots of love x}

Bruce

* * *

When Vex tells Tony _exactly_ where to shove his advances, Bruce can’t quite help having to smother a smile with his hand. The expression on Stark’s face is priceless. Of course, this isn’t the first – nor the second, or even tenth – time his flirtations have been rejected by someone, but it remains a novelty whenever it _does_ happen. Her assertion is almost enough to make him warm a little to the idea of having this woman around for a while.

Almost.

And then Agent Hill pulls Vex in for a hug – an embrace between friends who haven’t seen each other in far too long – he can feel the Hulk stirring from his place in the very depths of his consciousness. The Other Guy doesn’t do anything, or even _say_ anything. He just… wakes. Like he’s trying to remind Bruce that yes, he’s still there and still aware of everything going on. In itself, Bruce wouldn’t find it too alarming, but after what Pepper had said earlier, he can’t help the distinct feeling that he should be giving this woman a wide berth. So he turns back to the window, thoughts turning back to his lab and the partially finished equation sprawled across his desk.

“Earth to Bruce?” He blinks. Hill is snapping her fingers in front of his face, lips pursed in irritation even though her eyes are laughing. “I asked you a question.”

“S-sorry, Maria. I was uh, just lost in thought,” he mumbles, flashing her an awkward smile, “what did you want to know?”

Maria Hill quirks a brow, but whatever she’s thinking of him, she keeps to herself. Instead, she motions to where Vex is rifling through the cupboards in the kitchenette. Bruce can hear the woman grumbling something, but all he can pick out are choice words like _bloody Avengers_ and _bleedin’ Americans_ in her light Scottish accent. “She’s looking for green tea. You drink that stuff, don’t you? Maybe you could give her a little of your tea stash? It’d be a great way to break the ice.”

Vex pauses her search. She looks a little dishevelled from raking through the cupboards – Bruce can see where her messy bun of copper hair has snagged on a handle and pulled some of her curls free – but she’s beaming hopefully at him across the room, “Maria said you’d be okay letting me use some of your tea? I’d pay you back, obviously.”

Her freckle-flecked cheeks are dusted with a rosy hue, like she’s embarrassed to be asking him for something after their introduction to each other that morning. Vex leans over the countertop and clasps her hands together in a faux-prayer, and Bruce is about to say yes when his gaze snags on the neckline of her dress and the curve of her breasts peeking out. Hulk shifts in his mind again, interested. Bruce’s throat bobs as he swallows and looks away, jaw set.

“No.”

She blinks, taken aback by how curt his tone is, but forces a smile and perseveres anyway. “I understand if you think we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe I could pop out and get some tea for both of us? I feel we should at least try to-”

“I _said_ , no,” Bruce snaps, inwardly wincing at the harsh snarl that came out. She’s trying, extending an olive branch after an awkward, unpleasant first meeting this morning, and he’s already shutting down any kindness she’s trying to show him because the Other Guy is too restless in his head. Just like that, he’s cemented the perception that he’s an asshole in her mind. Bruce tells himself that it’s probably for the best, that she’s trouble anyway. After all, having a psychologist around to tell him all the different ways he’s a screw up sounds like a particularly cruel form of torture.

On that particularly cringeworthy note, he decides to make an exit. Too embarrassed to even mumble out a goodbye to either of the women still present, Bruce simply clears his throat, ducks his head, and hurries to the elevator. He mentally chastises himself for the way he’d treated Vex, a total stranger, in such a cold, detached way. When he’d met Natasha he’d been a warmer, funnier version of himself despite the fact he knew he was a risk – so why was he so unreasonable with this woman?

_‘She’s already pinned you’_

Pepper’s lighthearted comment is still swirling in his thoughts as the elevator door closes and he finds himself alone in a metal box. The muffled voices of Hill and Vex can still be heard through the doors, and he knows if he tries a little harder he’ll be able to head exactly what they’re saying. A perk that comes along with the huge green beast. Bruce sighs. He knows, even as he concentrates on their voices, that he’ll regret hearing whatever they have to say.

 _“The fuck is that guy’s problem? I knew Banner had anger issues but this is beyond ridiculous. I was trying to smooth things over.”_ Vex is snapping. Bruce can hear something clatter against the kitchen countertop. She’s just slammed a coffee cup onto the bench. _“You said he was timid. That the whole ‘Hulk Smash’ bullshit was just Big Green, but this guy seems like a real piece of work. All I wanted was a cup of bloody tea.”_

 _“He’s probably just having a bad day, Vee. You know how it is,”_ Hill tries. Banner sends a silent thanks across the void. She was too nice.

There’s a short pause before he hears Vex respond to her friend, but when she does it’s a tired, strained tone that comes out. He feels a twist of guilt in his stomach. _“I know. I know it’s not an excuse to take it out on people… but I can’t have been the best person to speak to either. I’m so stressed, Maria. I’ve hardly eaten in days, I’m nervous, I’m moving in with the_ Avengers _and it’s my job to make sure they’re okay. It’s… it’s a lot to put on someone. What if I miss something? Something could slip my notice and it could get one of them killed. How could I live with that?”_

_“Nick wouldn’t have given you the task if he didn’t think you were capable.”_

_“Fury isn’t omniscient.”_

He imagines that Maria shrugs. _“No, but he’s a pretty damn good judge of character. Nat trusts you too, and so do I. Isn’t it enough to know that?”_

 _“Yeah… I guess,”_ Bruce feels that guilt swell, aware of how hard it is to be alone and burdened with the fate of the world. He should go easier on her. Push that feeling of unease to one side, suck it up, and be kind. She’d only be here for a few months regardless, so what point is there in being so deliberately unkind? But the way the Hulk had started to shift in his thoughts, interested, made him so uncomfortable.

The lab is quiet. Dark. Bruce exhales in relief as he enters the dimly lit laboratory, that tight feeling in his chest easing slightly as he returns to his desk. This was who he was. He wasn’t the kind of man who attended morning briefings or socialised with the Avengers’ assistants. Bruce wasn’t _really_ even an Avenger. The Other Guy was. Had it not been for the state-of-the-art lab equipment and promise that he’d be protected from General Ross and his unending obsession with the gamma beast he’d created, Bruce would have been halfway around the world somewhere. Hiding.

When he sees the array of papers and beakers and electronics scattered across one of the benches, Bruce groans.

“What’s up, Stringbean?” Tony asks, giving Bruce a quick jab with – with whatever pointy metal object he happened to have on hand – as he walks past him, back to the table full of clutter. Bruce just sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re looking particularly relaxed today, Banner. Have you been to that pilates class I recommended?”

“You’re _hilarious_ , Tony,” Bruce confirms, “Why exactly are you here? Aside from making a mess of my lab?”

“ _My_ lab, Doc.”

He takes a deep, exaggerated breath, pretending that it’s a _real task_ to speak with Stark without Hulk bursting out. “What are you doing up here, Tony? I thought you’d be in engineering.”

Stark makes a noncommittal noise and starts poking at the bundle of wires he’s sprawled across the table. It’s clear that he wants something. Tony has any number of people to speak to, and no end to the people who want to speak to him. Speaking to Bruce was never a social call. It was to prod at his brain – and often to zap him with things to provoke the Other Guy – and to pick at those PhDs of his.

“So, you thought that you were developing a serum to prevent radiation poisoning, right?” Tony starts, nudging one of the papers across to Banner. A file taken from old S.H.I.E.L.D. archives detailing what Banner had been doing under direction of General Ross. “But you were essentially tricked into trying to recreate the serum from Project Rebirth, weren’t you? What if, instead of focusing on a cure for the serum you made, we started to examine what we can do if we _actually_ try to prevent the symptoms of severe radiation poisoning? I took a look at the work you did in the good old days and I don’t think you were too far off. If we reopen it under a new direction we can-”

“You can’t be serious.”

Tony shrugs and taps another sheet of paper, this time a series of printed photographs of a journal. The chicken-scratch writing is barely legible, but Bruce doesn’t have to do more than glance to know exactly what’s written on those pages. He could write those equations in his sleep. He’s gone over them again and again, desperately trying to figure out where he went wrong, how he could have screwed up so badly that _this monster inside him_ was the end result. He had nothing. Every number. Every letter. Every solved problem. They’re etched so deeply into his brain that he can see them every time he closes his eyes.

He starts to breathe in a steady, deliberate rhythm. Banner closes his eyes and places both hands over his diaphragm, concentrating on the muscle movement. He won’t panic. He won’t let his anxiety get the better of him.

“Are you… trying not to Hulk out on me?” Tony asks curiously, poking at Bruce again with his zappy stick.

Helpful.


End file.
